


Salty and Sweet

by Alexilulu



Category: Persona 5
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexilulu/pseuds/Alexilulu
Summary: Ryuji always has a hankering for something salty in the wee hours of the evening, especially after a night in Mementos. Only tonight, he's got something else on his mind, too. Or...someone.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 5
Kudos: 139





	Salty and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mishiman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishiman/gifts).



> Secret Santa gift to the ever-wonderful [Mishiman]()!

Ryuji shifts nervously on the side of the residential street, dancing from one leg to the other to at least feel like he’s doing something. Not that the waiting is the problem, though, so much as the setting; it’s well past dusk, and this kind of neighborhood is the swanky kind that looks down on the bleached-blonde teen who doesn’t live around here standing on the street corner looking at his phone every ten seconds. Luckily, Ryuji is much more occupied by typing replies to messages he’s getting to think too much about it, but his nervous jitter remains as his sneakers tap out an unintelligible rhythm against the concrete.

**SkullFace:** Dude, come on! I’m LITERALLY OUTSIDE!

**Kitaga.y:** I do not comprehend the urgency of this. Most sensible school-aged students would be at home studying at this hour.

**SkullFace:** Most sensible school-aged students wouldn’t be doing you-know-what either but guess what bro

**SkullFace:** We ain’t exactly normal, so fuck it! No rules, just right

**Kitaga.y:** I did not know walls had thumbs to message others with.

**SkullFace:** callin’ me dense isn’t gonna make me go away any faster

**Kitaga.y:** No, a wall would be immobile, wouldn’t it.

**Kitaga.y:** You realize Master is home. How am I to explain my absence?

**SkullFace:** Fuck em’

**SkullFace:** Does he check on you late at night like some kinda fuckin’ cop?

**Kitaga.y:** Not typically.

**SkullFace:** And is he gonna notice you leaving?

**Kitaga.y:** Not likely.

**SkullFace:** Then you better get your ass moving, it’s cold as hell out here and I’m hungry as shit   
**Kitaga.y:** Neither of those comparisons are accurate, and honestly rather disgusting in the latter case.

**SkullFace:** Okay, dude

**Kitaga.y:** Can literal feces hunger? It boggles the mind.

**SkullFace:** This is time you could be walking over here!

“You seem nervous.” Yusuke’s voice rumbling in his blind spot startles Ryuji back three long steps into the concrete wall ahead of him, cracking his shoulder against it and causing a gasp of pain to trail behind his barely-muffled shriek of surprise.

_“DUDE!”_ Ryuji gasps, leaning against the stone for support. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so nervous, that could have been avoided. What did you have to worry about?” Yusuke gives him a look, one that says exactly what he thinks: That Ryuji is a confusing buffoon at the best of times, and this is no different. Pushing off the wall and dusting his hoodie off, Ryuji forces a smile.

“I wasn’t  _ nervous,”  _ Ryuji snaps back, “you just startled me. Since when did you of all people walk and text?”

“It’s a vital skill for the Tokyo citizen on the go.” Yusuke replies primly, his phone already returning to his pocket. He’s dressed as he always is, the immaculately pressed white shirt and slacks from his fancy art school. Hell, his keys are at his waist and should have been a dead giveaway, usually Ryuji can hear him coming from a mile away. What’s up with him tonight? “Shall we go?”

“You don’t want a coat? It’s gonna get colder by the time we’re coming back.” Ryuji turns away and starts walking, and sure enough the jingling of keys follows him without a pause.

“I don’t have one, to tell the truth. Or rather I do, but it is solely reserved for special occasions. Master’s rules…” He trails off, sighing softly to himself. “Besides. The ramen you’ve promised is sure to warm me through our return trip.”

“Right, right.” Ryuji shoots him a look over his shoulder, concerned, but Yusuke seems as stoic as ever. Ryuji honestly has no idea how he does it; putting up with the shit he has would have had Ryuji spitting fire ages ago. Who the hell doesn’t give their son a coat for everyday use? A bastard, that’s for sure, and he’s a bastard who’s gonna get what’s coming to him real soon.

Ryuji gives his companion another, more furtive look. He just hopes Yusuke is gonna get the proper treatment he deserves when it all shakes out.

* * *

Inside, the ramen shop Ryuji picked (one he scouted out a while back, naturally; fantastic broth, perfect noodles, and a healthy sizing on the sides) is packed full. Luckily, they managed to arrive just as a group of workers depart into the night, tying their ties around their forehead in preparation for an alcohol-fueled battle with a karaoke microphone soon to come in their future. The boys sit down in their wake, occupying the corner of the small shop’s chef-facing bar.

“Just in time.” Ryuji says with a smile, beaming to the chef when he gives them the ‘gimme your orders or get lost’ look from behind the counter. “Shoyu ramen, extra noodles, extra ginger.”

“I will have shio ramen, with two extra eggs and a bowl of miso on the side.”

“And some extra ginger for him too.” Ryuji indicates Yusuke, and the chef nods in the affirmative and begins his work.

Yusuke fixes Ryuji in place with a glare. “Do you presume to order for me? Should I go stand outside, perhaps?”

“No, no! C’mon, dude, trust me.” Ryuji points to the cooler next to him and grabs a soda after a nod from the chef. “All that art you do, you must be getting cramps in your arm like crazy, right? I learned about this back when I was competin’, it’s  _ the _ surefire cure for muscle ache. Nothing else like it out there.”

“Hmm.” Yusuke’s wrathful gaze softens as he considers Ryuji’s claim. “I have heard something to that effect before. Still, I would appreciate if you did not place undue stress upon my dinner bill.”

“Sure, sure.” Ryuji says, holding up his hands in defeat. “Do you want something to drink? Only 50 yen for a soda…” He swishes his can around in one hand, hoping to tempt him over to the side of calories. The poor guy probably needs as many as he can get, empty or not.

“Mmm...fine. Two birds with one stone, then.” He indicates a ginger soda tucked away in the corner of the display case, and Ryuji retrieves it for him after another nod from the chef. After a sip, Yusuke’s eyebrows raise slowly as he swallows. “A...unique taste, certainly.”

“You’ll get used to it. The real stuff is way better, though. Sodas only use a little bit for flavor, not enough to get the sort of juice you’ll be looking for. Oh, speaking of.” Ryuji’s mouth is already watering as their bowls of ramen and miso are set out in front of them, steaming hot and picture-perfect. So picture perfect, in fact, that he has to make sure to take one just to taunt Akira and Ann with later. The middle-aged chef rolls his eyes but nods his thanks to Ryuji when he produces enough for the bill immediately, passing it over the counter.

“What was that?” Yusuke’s voice is sharper than he’s heard it outside of the Metaverse. A cutting edge he reserves for battle turned on him here of all places...ouch.

“Payin’ for dinner. I’m not gonna call you out here and not pay for food, dude.” Ryuji shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal. Which it isn’t, not really, but he knows exactly what’s going through Yusuke’s head right now about it. You don’t grow up with a dad like Ryuji’s (for as long as he stayed, anyway) and not recognize the signs in others real quick.

“...You didn’t have to do that.” Yusuke reaches into his pocket, but Ryuji stares him down until he stops dead, his wallet halfway up. “What?”

“Don’t you dare.” When Yusuke raises an eyebrow, Ryuji blows air out of his nose. “I mean it.”

“You’re being ridiculous. I can support—”

Ryuji plants a palm down on the counter, hard.  _ “Can _ and  _ should _ are different things, dude.” Ryuji pauses, realizing just how loud his voice had gotten, the tension in his shoulders. Once the dull roar of food and utensils returns to the room as the other diners return to their meals, he continues. “Look. I get it, you wanting to support yourself, pay your own way. I get it. Believe me.” He pauses, searching for the right thing to say. “Just...you just gotta let go, sooner or later. With friends like ours, you can’t just get pissed at every suggestion that you can’t afford something, or they’re just gonna do what I just did.” He smiles, then. “Ann still gives me shit that after all the time I knew her in middle school, the only time I accepted some help with money was for somebody else, not for me. Don’t be like me, okay? No man’s an island, or whatever the saying is.”

Yusuke watches him for a moment, searching for something to say maybe. In the end, he just turns away and puts his wallet back. It isn’t until he picks up his chopsticks and Ryuji mirrors him that he hears the quiet ‘thank you’ Yusuke could barely vocalize above a whisper. 

The sound of it makes Ryuji feel like he could run 10 laps in 5 seconds. Without realizing it, his foot starts bouncing on the bar’s footrest, and doesn’t stop until his bowl is empty.

* * *

The walk back holds many things for Yusuke. For one, the cold has grown much deeper than he expected for a spring night, and his shirt leaves him little protection from the elements. Standing outside the Ramen shop in front of a small space heater set up next to the door as they prepare to depart, Yusuke can’t help but think about how much he will miss the delicious warmth of the meal he enjoyed in only a few scant minutes.

“Here.” Ryuji shrugs his hoodie off and holds it out to Yusuke. Under the hoodie had apparently been another jacket, a thin red one that bears his school’s logo at the collar.

“What are you doing?” Yusuke pauses, considering Ryuji’s words earlier. He...means well, after a fashion. Though he has not known Ryuji more than a week or two at most, it’s beyond evident that Ryuji understands Yusuke at a level far better than he expected him to. At first glance, Ryuji is a boorish troublemaker, a dyed-in-the-wool (so to speak) loudmouth who is incapable of grace or tact. Yusuke had been content to leave his impression at that, until the sudden invitation out for a late dinner arrived.

Tonight, he feels ashamed to be so very wrong in his assessment.

“Actually, please do not answer that.” Yusuke continues, frowning. He takes the hoodie, feeling the soft purple fabric between his fingers and pulling it on. He’s shocked how warm it feels over him, Ryuji’s own body heat still lingering and transferring warmth even as it armors him against the cold. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Ryuji smiles, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“It...truly is appreciated.” Yusuke waits for Ryuji to start walking, falling in step at his side easily. The jacket is a little short upon him, coming up to his forearms in the sleeves and just below his belly button at the waist, but he could not possibly think of it as a drawback at the moment. An entirely different kind of warmth fills his chest the whole way back, which is conducted almost entirely in silence.

“Was it good? The ramen, I mean.” Ryuji finally says, coming to a stop where they met and turning back to Yusuke. “I never really go for the basic salt broths, I like soy sauce too much.”

“It was delicious. The perfect balance of salt to the tenderness of the noodle, the egg cooked with it taking on some of that same tang in its yolk.” Yusuke nods. “Even the ginger had an unexpectedly harmonious effect with it, once it had taken on some of the characteristics of the broth. Overall, delightful.” He nods once, sure in his assessment.

“Good, good.” Ryuji nods, his shoe scuffing the concrete idly as he continues to nod to himself, looking away. “So. Usually I just walk to the train station and we wait for our train, but I guess...I just go, here, huh?” He grins, like he’s laughing at himself for being at a loss for words. It’s a smile that seems too comfortable, like he’s grown used to using it in situations like these. “I’m no good at goodnights, I guess.”

“You just need practice.” Yusuke replies firmly, drawing Ryuji’s gaze back to him.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, another expression that Yusuke has personally seen used against him several times in the past. “How do you figure?”

“It’s a simple enough concept. Do you want to practice?”

“Wh-at the hell are you talking about?” Ryuji’s plucked eyebrow arches high, confusion obvious.

“The good-night kiss is elementary in many societies including our own, and—”

_ “Dude?” _ Ryuji hisses, glancing around furtively. “Are you  _ kidding me? We’re in public!” _

“It’s dark outside and an hour where very few people would interrupt us.” Yusuke takes a step forward, the warmth in his chest propelling him. This is by far the least he could possibly do for Ryuji. Though...he has no experience to his name, of course, beyond the visual experience of examining a great many depictions of the human form in its various arrangements and permutations. And, perhaps, given the dumbfounded look Ryuji is giving him, he is not alone in that singular lack of experience.

Ryuji opens his mouth but can’t find the words, looking this way and that before returning his gaze to Yusuke. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” There’s a degree of wonder in his voice that makes that warmth in Yusuke’s chest swell tenfold. Without thinking, Yusuke takes another step closer to Ryuji, his hand finding Ryuji’s shoulder. “You’re…” Ryuji trails off, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle in the yellow streetlight, his mouth hanging just barely open, breath misting in the air between them.

Oh, how could he ever find the words to communicate the utter artless beauty of this buffoon back to him, to express the way that he has made Yusuke feel tonight? For now, Ryuji will have to settle for the wordless embrace of lips, the straightforward touch of skin on skin to communicate Yusuke’s gratitude towards him, his desire to connect and learn what lies beneath the hair dye and bravado.

He does, with gusto. Neither of them are adept or even competent at the thing they are attempting, but the sheer joy of exploration does wonders for one’s enthusiasm. Ryuji’s hand grabs back at Yusuke, a handful of hoodie gripped in it, pulling him closer and down so that he can stand normally without breaking their point of contact. Despite their best efforts though, the cruel reality of the world and their positioning will not allow them to remain much longer. Ryuji pulls away from their embrace first, wide-eyed and panting for breath.

“Dude.” Ryuji says, breathless. Yusuke can hear him mutter the same word again under his breath as he composes himself, releasing Ryuji’s shoulder and straightening himself up.

“Very good practice, I would say. Though we may need more of it.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I...wow.” Ryuji laughs, scrubbing a hand through his hair and very plainly resisting the urge to whoop loudly.  _ “Wow.” _

“Perhaps we should save any more practice for a more fitting time.” Yusuke hesitates, looking over his shoulder towards home, oh so close. “It would not be wise to tempt fate more than we have already, I suspect.”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, definitely.” Ryuji’s coming back to his senses, blinking rapidly and getting that normal jittery, nervous energy he’s typically possessed of whenever Yusuke sees him. Is he always like this? “Okay, I’m just gonna, uh, go, I guess. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Very good.” His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good night, Ryuji.”

Ryuji pauses, having already jogged a few steps away in the time it took Yusuke to speak. “Night, Yusuke!” He waves energetically, returning back up to speed in a matter of moments.

Thankfully, Yusuke is already in his room by the time he hears Ryuji whoop with joy on the way to the train station.


End file.
